


In Which James Attempts To Be a Good Elder Brother

by techneological



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Emotionally Awkward James, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hurt/Comfort, Next Generation, Sibling Bonding, Teen Angst, kinda sorta, teenage boys being awkward with eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techneological/pseuds/techneological
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When James finds his younger brother alone in a hallway crying his eyes out, he tries for the first time in his life to be a decent older brother. It doesn't quite go as planned, but Albus salutes him for, at the very least, trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which James Attempts To Be a Good Elder Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction I've ever posted anywhere. I'm a bit nervous. I'd appreciate some constructive criticism, if anybody has some to offer. I hope you enjoyed.

          James Sirius Potter was not known for his ability to empathise with people. In fact, he was known for quite the opposite; he seemed to lack most forms of sympathy, and often he found himself lost when dealing with feelings, especially those of others. His aunt, Hermione, said he was like his uncle Ron in that aspect- that is, they both had the " _emotional range of a teaspoon_ ", according to her.

          So, of course, James had absolutely no clue as to what he should do when he found his younger brother, Albus, crying in the middle of the hallway during one of his rounds as prefect. A part of him screamed at him to just shake the boy and tell him to get out of there; he was tired, and honestly didn’t feel like writing up his own younger brother for being out after curfew. James just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a good, long while.

          However, a different part of James (a far more _compassionate_ part of him) was quite firmly telling him to at least ask Albus what was wrong- as, after all, that’s what a good big brother would do in this situation. At least, that’s what James figured a good elder brother would do.

          Mulling over it for a minute, James released a long, heavy sigh and quietly approached the sobbing mess of robes and bedhead on the floor. The black mass of hair jerked up as he heard James approaching, and James thought he may have seen a bit of fear in Al’s eyes.

          It disappeared just as quickly as it came, though, when Albus saw who exactly it was that was approaching him. Without missing a beat, Albus returned his face to the little nest he had made out of his arms and kneecaps, his sobbing picking up again, just as loudly as it had been before James had approached.

          James bit his lip and hesitantly lowered himself to the ground, sitting a few inches away from Albus. He crossed his legs and shifted for a moment, trying to find a comfortable spot on the rather hard (and cold) floor. When he finally found a decently comfortable placement, he paused, glancing at his sobbing mess of a brother.

          "So," he started awkwardly, "What’s eating you?" James cursed himself internally, both for his lack of tact, and his inability to appear comfortable in these kinds of situations. Maybe Aunt Hermione was right- maybe he _did_ have the emotional range of a teaspoon (or less).

          Albus sniffed, and peeked out from his arms, his right eye narrowed dangerously. James resisted the urge to flinch away at the harsh look, seeing as it probably would not help the situation. He had almost forgotten how frightening his younger brother could be when he was in one of his moods. "Why do _you_ care?"

          James winced at the biting words, and he moved a hand to the back of his neck, scratching his hairline nervously. It was a habit he had picked up years ago, from his Uncle Charlie. Charlie had always done it when in thought, or when feeling awkward or nervous, and somewhere along the way, James had adopted the habit. He blamed it on how much time he spent around his uncle, seeing as he had idolized him when he was young.

          "Well," James paused, searching his head for the words he needed. As his mind drew a blank, he wondered if he should maybe try reading a dictionary over the next break. Or maybe just a few pages. Or maybe just not do that at all, seeing as it was a pretty stupid idea, now that he thought about it. Albus raised a brow at him, and James suddenly remembered that he needed to finish his sentence. "I’m your older brother. It’s kind of, like, _my job_ to care when you’re sitting in a dark, cold, empty hallway sobbing your eyes out."

          "I am _not_ sobbing my eyes out," Albus hissed, his head jerking up, as if he was mortally offended by the suggestion. His younger brother brought the sleeve of his robe up, rubbing furiously at his eyes, as if trying to erase the evidence that he was (or had been) distraught. It didn’t do much, James noted, as even after Al did this, his eyes were still rather red and irritated looking. Probably from the tears.

          "You were." James stated, a tad quietly, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. He looked at Albus with a blank look, the kind of expression that Al wouldn’t be able to read very easily. At least, that’s what he thought it looked like. However, to Albus, it looked more like James was seriously out of it, or thinking just a little too much (which was never good for anybody).

          Albus scowled at him, and James gave a small shrug of his shoulders that he figured didn’t actually really mean anything at all. "Just stating a fact."

          Albus’ scowl only deepened, and James worried that he was maybe stepping into dangerous territory here. After a few moments, Albus’ scowl softened, as did his eyes. His expression morphed into something more like the one James remembered from when they were children. It was Al’s signature pout, the one he always pulled when he was truly upset over something, but didn’t want to talk about it. He wondered, ever briefly, what had happened to his shy, mild-mannered younger brother, but figured there was no need to dwell on the past. Such things had no such use in the present.

          The younger of the two looked away, staring at the wall opposite of them, as if there was something quite interesting there. There wasn’t, though, James knew that, at least. He figured Al was just overthinking again, as his brother had quite the tendency to do that.

          Several minutes passed, full of a sort of tense silence that James decided then and there he didn’t like. It felt awkward and uncomfortable, making anxiety swirl in the pit of his stomach. He likened it to the feeling he got when he ate something that was past its expiry date- the same sickness, and the same tightness in his throat and gut.

          Finally, he coughed, and Albus looked at him from the corner of his eye. James didn’t look back, instead staring slightly upward at the ceiling, examining the little markings in it he hadn’t noticed before. There was a sort of dent in it, and he guessed it might have been from a spell gone wrong, or a long past duel that had gotten out of hand.

          Scratching the back of his neck again, James sighed softly, and he finally looked at Albus. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, pressing it to his left cheek, then his right, as he fought to form the sentence he needed to say in his mind.

          "Ally," he began, and Albus crinkled his nose. He knew Albus disliked the nickname now. He said it was too ‘ _girly sounding_ ’, and that he was ‘ _too old_ ’ for such a ‘ _stupid_ ’ nickname. Old habits die hard, James supposed, and he continued on slowly. "I understand if you don’t want to talk about this right now. But, if it helps, when you do... You can tell me about it."

          Albus looked at him blankly, and James wondered if he was going to start bawling again, or if he was maybe going to scream at him. Tell him that he didn’t need his older brother’s pity, or that James should mind his own business. He wouldn't put it past Albus to do that, as it seemed that in recent years, Albus had become quite the moody teenage-, right under his own brother's nose.

          Hastily, he started up again, practically stumbling over his words in a race to fix whatever mistake he may have just made. "I mean- if you feel okay with that. Because, if you don’t feel comfortable talking with me about it, I’m sure Rose would be totally okay with listening to you, or maybe Fred. Or you could try and owl Teddy, because he’s pretty good at giving advice, and I’m sure he’d be glad to help, and-"

          James froze, hands held up defensively, his eyes as wide as saucers. It took him a few seconds to register what was happening, and then he realized that Albus was not trying to punch him, or curse him, or slap him, or any other violent and hostile act. His younger brother was, instead, _hugging_ him, arms wrapped tightly around James’ shoulders.

          Staying still for a moment longer, James’ eyes finally softened, and he moved to wrap his arms around Albus in return. It was a bit awkward, but James didn’t really mind. He had kind of missed his younger brother’s hugs, anyways.

          "Thanks, Jamie," He wasn’t quite sure what he did, but when Albus pulled away, he was smiling, and that was good enough for James. Albus brushed away the last bit of his tears, and patted James’ shoulder, before moving to stand up. James followed suit, rising to his full height- a grand 5 feet 8 inches (very impressive, right?).

          His brother looked at him (was it just him, or had Al gotten taller?), and gave him a grin that James hadn’t seen in what seemed ike forever. "You know, James, you’re not as bad of a brother as one might think."

          James tilted his head to the side slightly, reminding Al of a confused, or perhaps lost puppy dog. He had a look that screamed bafflement and obliviousness. The elder boy’s eyebrows were furrowed in slight bewilderment, and Albus only chuckled and shook his head as he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

          It took James a moment or two to process the statement, and when it finally registered in his mind, he scowled and shook his fist, calling after Albus,

          " _Oi!_ What’s _that_ supposed to mean?"


End file.
